Holiday
by Idlesana
Summary: Ivan is scary and Antonio is dense. And while Lovino watched them two interact, he felt very, very irritated and worried. Russia/Spain, Spain/Romano


Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Uh, um, I just wanted to write a shortish RussiaSpain, but for some reason Romano got involved and the story got longer and longer. ;_; I fail.

Anyway, this is my first Hetalia fic. (Yay?) Don't mind the plotlessness, okie?

* * *

It was such a bore, really. He was sure everyone thought so, well, most of them anyway, seeing as he looked around the conference room and saw a lot of yawning and complaining.

Romano sighed in annoyance, swatting away his brother's hand that kept poking him, demanding entertainment.

America kept on raving in the front, going on about being a hero, and Britain and France were quick to start a fight. Nothing out of the usual. Might as well take a nap.

Taking one last look around the room to make sure that the meeting was as useless as ever, he was about to close his eyes. But then he saw Russia.

The man had the same goofy face as always, sitting on his chair and ignoring all the fighting going on around him. It wasn't that odd, because really, Russia being seemingly happy and carefree while countries around him declared war right next to him for the most asinine reasons was something considered as normal as getting your ass raped by France on your way home. No, no, it was the way the man's eyes traveled around the room, from country to country, measuring, observing until he moved to yet another nation.

What Romano found as odd was how the northern nation was quick to skip the ones with pale skin, his eyes lingering a moment too long on the more tanned ones instead. Egypt, Morocco, Bulgaria, Turkey, Greece, Portugal... Oh, hell no.

_Spain_ lifted his head just in time to meet Russia's gaze, giving the man a wide, friendly smile which the tall nation answered with one of his own. Romano watched this exchange of pleasantries in horror, not missing the look Russia gave his former caretaker after he had already turned his attention to other things.

As if sensing that he was being stared at, Russia startled the life out of Romano by turning to look at him, the smile on his lips rather ominous. Quickly averting his eyes, the southern part of Italy decided to resume on what he was about to do before taking an interest in unnecessary things. Closing his eyes, he pretended to be asleep.

Really, what was he doing worrying after Spain's hide? The man could take care of himself. Romano felt his cheeks heat up a bit.

All of this had _nothing_ to do with the fact that Russia was simply too scary to deal with.

--

"Ne, Spain?"

Said country turned around, a smile automatically on his face as he greeted the northern nation.

"What is it, Russia?"

The conference had just ended and everyone was heading home, more or less grumpy on how they managed to make no progress at all again.

Politics aside, Romano had a completely justified reason to look and be grumpy, as he tailed his former boss and spotted him talking with that damned creepy man. The Italian knew his caretaker better than anyone. He knew how dense he was. Stupid and thickheaded and so goddamn friendly with everyone and anyone.

He was the kind to get into the van for something as stupid as a tomato! (An offer Romano himself would consider but definitely refuse.)

"What are you doing, Lovino?" His brother used his moment of weakness and attacked from behind, almost making Romano fall flat on his face, away from the safety of the corner he was lurking behind. He tried, and failed, to get away from his brother's hug but gave up after realizing, once again, that limpets just aren't removable.

"Leave me alone, stupid," he muttered, stopping himself from checking out the situation Spain was in, in fear that the northern part of his nation would realize what he was doing and make a big number out of it.

There was, of course, no chance that he would be left alone to continue as he was, and he didn't really need the arms around him to tighten their hold to _get_ that. Veneziano laid his chin on his shoulder and looked ahead, spotting something interesting. "Heey, isn't that Spain nii-chan?"

His hand was too slow and didn't cover his brother's mouth in time, when he leaned harder against him and waved his hand to make sure he was noticed. "Spain nii-chan! Long time no see!"

Spain and Russia halted their conversation to look at the two Italians, both smiling and waving back at the enthusiastic sibling leaning on his not so enthusiastic brother's back. And this time Romano's hand was too slow to pull back from Veneziano's mouth, making it clear that he did not want to be seen by the two, which was sure to raise suspicions, if not in Spain's case, then at least in Russia's.

Turning back to Spain, the tallest nation smiled and spoke again. "So it's okay?"

Carefree as ever, Spain just smiled back and nodded. "Sure."

And Romano just cursed because he had missed the whole conversation thanks to his still clingy little brother saying "Ve, ve" right next to his ear.

But it didn't matter, because all he had to do was to muster the information from his former boss. About to do so despite the annoyance still hanging on his back, Romano stepped into the corridor, only to see Spain already walking away, the one approaching being Russia instead.

He tensed and scowled, because his best defense was not to look scared. Russia was all smiles, as he stopped in front of the two Italians, his dark aura looming over them making even Veneziano pick the mood and feel uneasy.

"W-what did you talk about with Spain?" Romano demanded, voice threatening despite the stutter.

It did little to intimidate the tall man, who kept on smiling down at them, saying, "Hmm? I fail to see how that is any of your business." There was a hint of a laugh in his tone.

This was enough to replace Romano's cowardliness with a serious case of being enraged at being looked down upon, and he puffed out his tomato-red cheeks in annoyance.

"You better not think of doing anything to Spain, you bastard!" He all but shouted while poking the man's chest with an accusing and slightly shaking finger.

This provided a good natured laugh, and for some reason Russia's eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Of course I won't."

Romano pulled his hand back, crossing both arms in front of his chest as he let out a satisfied snort. Told the man off, he had. Veneziano would do good to take notice and follow his example.

"It's only common sense to invade the countries next to you first. I plan on starting from the north, see." Russia continued, still smiling fondly as he toyed with his scarf a bit, looking wistful.

"So countries like you who are so far in the south have nothing to worry about." The light coming from above them made dark shadows land beneath the man's eyes as he looked at the brothers, the corners of his lips forming a smirk rather than a smile.

"Yet." The northern country finished, then turning around and walking away. And Romano let him do so without any protests, feeling his brother shake along with him, terrified.

--

The next day, Romano wasted no time rushing to Spain's house, never minding the lock on the door, just bursting in like the Mob back at home.

"Spain!" he tried to call, but the only answer he got was silence.

"Dammit! Where are you, you bastard?"

So many worst-case-scenarios formed in his mind that he had a hard time choosing which was the most horrid. He was sure the silence was caused by Russia. The man had taken advantage of the not-so-bright Spain and had done unthinkable things to the man! Surely!

Romano ran through the house, checking every room and closet and other places that would fit a tied up and stripped down Spain, crying to be rescued from the Russian mafia.

"Spain!" He shouted again, starting to turn more desperate by the minute.

"Romano?" There! The voice was faint, coming from far away inside the large house.

"Where are you, dammit!?" He ran fast towards the direction he thought he had heard the voice from.

"In the kitchen!" In the _kitchen_! Still unable to think about anything else but the worst of things, Romano imagined how the Russian was about to cut the Spaniard's limbs off, one by one, and deep fry them and-!

Finally he reached the kitchen, gasping for air from his rush, gripping the door frame for support and preparing for the worst. Only to see Spain smiling at him with nothing but red shorts on and a tray with drinks on his hand.

"What's the matter, Lovino?"

"I- but you- the mafia..?" Romano started, looking around him, trying to spot any delinquents, because surely, there was no way he had worried over nothing.

Spain looked around as well, trying to figure out what his part of Italy was trying to find. Getting worried of Romano's frantic behavior, the older nation put the tray on the counter and approached the other, putting his hand on his forehead.

"What's the matter, Lovino? Are you running a fever?"

Romano stared at Spain, suspicious and accusing.

"Why didn't you answer when I tried to call?"

"Oh. It's such a lovely weather that I've been out in the yard the whole day," the Spaniard laughed, moving his hand from Romano's forehead to ruffle his hair instead.

Cheeks gaining their familiar red color, Romano shook from both anger and embarrassment, and when Spain dared to make another of his '_tomato_' comments, his soup of emotions was already over heating and boiling over. Sometimes it amazed him how Spain never could predict the headbutts he aimed at the man's stomach. Talk about thickheaded.

Doubling over and taking support to stand from the counter, Spain looked at his flushed face with honest to god confusion. "W-why did you do that?"

Romano just huffed, crossing his arms and turning to look anywhere but the older country, cheeks gaining even more color if possible. "I- I wasn't worried about you!" He dropped his gaze to the floor and added a "Bastard..." as an afterthought.

Spain blinked, not understanding anything, but that was expected because the man understood even the simplest of things only on rare occasions. Romano watched the other chew on his lower lip a bit, not quite managing to bite back the "so cute..." before he turned around and took the tray from the counter, starting to head out into the garden.

"Feel free to join us, Lovi," Spain smiled from the door, leaving Romano to wonder why the other would talk about himself in plural.

--

"W-why is _he_ here, dammit!?"

Romano's back was pressed against the wall of Spain's house and his hand was shaking violently as he pointed at the intruder on his caretaker's garden. So distracted and utterly terrified was he, that he didn't even notice how cowardly he was acting again, a thing he would surely be mortified about later that day.

But for the moment he found his reaction completely justified, because he had _not_ expected to see Russia of all people sitting on one of Spain's deckchairs, dressed in nothing but his ever present scarf and speedos that left no space for imagination.

"Don't be so rude." Spain ordered as he walked over to the tall man lying on the chair and put the tray with drinks on the table next to him.

Russia looked like he was suffering a great deal, and Romano actually heard him whine when he tried, but couldn't, reach for a drink. Spain looked amused, but took one of the drinks and held it to the other's lips and helped him drink some.

At this point Romano noticed exactly how much the Russian was sweating under the Spanish sun and seeing his pathetic state, the Italian was quick to regain his loud arrogance despite just having been terrified of the man.

He went to loom over the unwelcome guest, a dark sneer on his face as he held himself from spitting on Russia's face. "Can't handle the heat, eh, dickface?" Well it was a rather hot day, even for him, but for someone who came from all the way up north, it must've been pure torture. Judging from Russia's face, it was more than that.

And oh did it make the sadist in him happy. The northern nation didn't react to his presence at all though, instead turning to Spain and pulling him down to straddle his big-boned body. Romano flushed from sheer anger when he noticed how conveniently Spain's ass was positioned to cover Russia's crotch.

"Waah, Antonio's shadow can cool me down," the man singsonged, voice oddly childish considering their position. If Romano had ever though of Spain having even the tiniest bit of a sense to protect himself, he was proven dead wrong right this moment.

Spain didn't move from where he was, didn't even realize to get scared, just treating the situation like it was a normal occurrence.

"I keep telling you Ivan, you should take your scarf off. Of course you feel hot with it on." The Spaniard said, reaching out for the sunscreen that was on the table right beside the drinks.

"But I don't want to take it off." It was a childish whine with an odd tone of finality in it.

Romano felt his eye twitch and mouth foam a bit when Spain took a bit of the sunscreen on his hands and started to rub it on the Russian's bare chest, the man beneath him letting out sounds of approval when the cool substance was smeared over his over heated body.

"W-why..." the Italian tried, feeling like the scene playing before him would be too much for even France to see.

"Hm?" Spain's way too clueless eyes were turned to him and he smiled pleasantly, not stopping his hands from roaming all around Russia's body. "Ivan wanted to come somewhere warm for a nice holiday," he said, fingers now on the man's cheeks while his thumbs were working on his rather big nose. "Right, Ivan?"

"Mmhm," the Russian hummed, eyes closed and one hand resting on the Spaniard's hip for reasons unknown. "Very nice indeed."

And Romano screamed out loud, making Spain jump a little in surprise, before he rushed back inside, not wanting to deal with the annoyingly dense Spain or the overly scary Russia.

Honestly, Spain could get his ass raped for all he cared.

--

"Y-you didn't get your ass raped, did you, you idiot?" He wasn't fidgeting, dammit, so Spain deserved to be punched for calling him cute for it! But never mind that, the man was as carefree as ever, so maybe Russia really had kept his dirty hands off the Spaniard's vital regions... for now.

The day was already turning into night, and Spain had the decency to wear a shirt, much to Romano's relief. Russia was about to leave, and the only reason the southern Italy had lurked the whole day in Spain's house was to make sure the man went home at the end of the day.

"Thank you Antonio, I had a really fun day!" The tall man said, all too cheerful while standing at the broken front door.

"You're welcome! And I'll call you when the sunflowers we planted are blooming." The room was literally sparkling from the Spaniard's charm and Romano almost had to cover his eyes not to be blinded by it. Damn that man, choosing the wrong people to please with his appeal.

The Italian watched the two countries share a similar empty-headed laugh that was enough to make the short tempered half a nation snap.

"Just get the hell out of here already, bastard!"

The smile on Russia's face didn't visibly change at all, but for some reason it felt more threatening when he turned to look at Romano. "You're right, I should go. Thank you for treating me nicely, Italy-kun. I'll be sure to repay your kindness by preparing you a trip to Siberia one day."

With a manly scream and tears in his eyes, Romano hid behind Spain who was unable to read the mood at all, _still_ returning the smile when Russia turned back to look at him.

In horror, the Italian watched from behind his friend's back as large hands reached for the Spaniard's face, taking a hold of the dense man who had not enough sense to pull back to avoid being captured. Starting to cry again from the though that Russia was about to twist Spain's neck broken, Romano was surprised out of his guts when the man leaned forward instead and pecked the Spaniard's lips briefly.

"Da svidanija, Antonio." Russia smiled, an odd glint in his eye before he was out of the door.

Romano was left twitching, all the signs of doom written on his face. And thus, Spain became the victim of yet another headbutt, this one landing on his side.

"Ow! Why did you do that, Lovino!?"

"He just ki- kissed you, dammit! How dense can you be, idiot!?" Romano huffed, leaning over the older nation who had managed to fall down on the floor due to the assault.

"Maybe it's in his culture, yeah?" Like hell it was, that'd be just too damn scary! Russia going around kissing people was not something that had happened in the past and Romano dared to hope that it would stay that way in the future as well.

But Spain paid no mind to his grumpiness and dared to take a hold of his curl, making the Italian go weak on his knees and fall on top of the laughing nation.

"Mm, doing nothing all day has made tired. Let's go to sleep, Lovi," was cooed into his ear and Romano felt his cheeks heat up because the other's fingers were still playing with the curl.

"I'm not sleeping with you, dammit! Let go of me, pervert!"

--

In the stealth of the night, Romano got up from the bed, leaving a snoring Spain to continue as he was. With a dark chuckle, he left the room and strolled down the hall, exiting the house.

So, Russia liked them sunflowers, eh? Earlier that day, he had looked out of the window, just because the window was there, not because you could see into the yard from there and he was worried about that stupid Spain or anything... anyway, he had looked and saw the two countries crouching on the ground and plant something.

His laugh was pleasantly evil as he stopped at the spot he had seen the two of them crouching about.

Digging up the seeds, he made sure that the flowers would never bloom, giving Russia no reason to come back ever again.

All this because he was protecting his country from Russian invasion, of course. And definitely not because he wanted to keep Spain all to himself.

* * *

-END-

It wrote itself, so it's not my fault! xD mwah.

Review?


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